


Beyond Common Sense

by notchason



Series: One-shots [Hamilton] [5]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Bottom Thomas Jefferson, Comfort Sex, Crying, Divorce, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Not really pity sex but close enough, Pity Sex, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Sad, Self-Pity, Shameless Smut, Top Alexander Hamilton, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-06
Updated: 2017-06-06
Packaged: 2018-11-09 17:56:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11109834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notchason/pseuds/notchason
Summary: (The title is bad, I'm sorry)3k words of porn with feelings.





	Beyond Common Sense

**Author's Note:**

> In five years time, I will find this page again and regret everything.
> 
> Not today tho.
> 
> Enjoy the porn.

Alexander was given a command from George Washington to deliver Mr. Thomas Jefferson some papers. At first Alexander didn't quite understand why it was him that had to do it - there were much more less-important people than him around (or to be more PC - people of lower rank than himself) to do this. Like for example, there were Charles Lee and Thomas Conway. Alexander hated both men with the same burning passion, and maybe the only person that shared the same distaste towards them was the president Washington himself. Although George was respectful towards every single one of his employees and coworkers and would never give them harder tasks to do than any other person here, which sadly included Lee and Conway. Which would not be the case if Hamilton was the one in charge, but whatever. George hadn't really said much about the papers, and didn't seem willing to explain in much detail what they said. Alex was a curious man himself that liked to jab his nose in other people's personal affairs, but he wasn't about to sniff around the important-looking, heavy, white binder. He knew better.

He was completely caught off guard when he saw the doors of Jefferson's office ajar and no trace of Jefferson inside. He had given himself the liberty to walk in and investigate.

The window was open, and the curtains were pulled apart, meaning that the Secretary of State has been here recently - the half-full mug containing coffee, still warm, had confirmed that. He laid the binder onto the table and decided thay while he waits, he mignt as well make himself comfortable. So he ungracefully ploped down into Jefferson's (very comfortable) leather swivel chair. He weighted his options - he could peek, just a little. Nobody would know, right?

Wrong.

Jefferson barged in as Alexander was about to flip open the cover and look. He did seem oblivious of Hamilton's intentions regarding the papers, so that was good. He cocked and eyebrow at the smaller man who was not-so-casually propped against the table (which was, by the way, much more larger and fancier than the one in Hamilton's office. Totally not fair. He'll talk with George about this blasphemy.)

"What are you doing here, gremlin?" Jefferson's facial expression could be accurately described as '100% done with Alexander's shit'. He looked exhausted, like somebody has just woken him up from a nap. Which also might have been the case, really. His hair was disheveled, his magenta sweater wrinkled and his tie loosely hanging around his neck under it. Hamilton wasn't wearing his glasses but he could tell apart couple of stains on the other's white collared-shirt. There were bags under his red rimmed eyes - and he was totally stealing Alexander's look. Treasury Secretary was usually the sleep-deprived caffeine addict in the White House, not somebody as reputable as Thomas Jefferson.

"George asked me to deliver you something", as Jefferson opened his mouth to speak, Hamilton cut in, "I don't know what they are about. It's apparently confidential, he didn't share it with me."

Jefferson nodded, "Oh," he said intelligently. "George as in…?"

"President George Washington." Hamilton muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like 'Jesus Christ' and added, "The hell is wrong with you? You look like shit, Jefferson. That's not usually your thing."

Jefferson was quiet for a moment. "Yeah, I guess." Now that Alexander could see him more closely, he noticed Jefferson's tired posture and slouched shoulders, eyes constantly cast downwards. The man tried to stick his hands into the pockets of his jeans, but it turns out they were too shallow; so Jefferson's hands unceremoniously fell to his sides. Alexander felt very sorry for the man, all of a sudden. It was a new feeling. Not the 'feeling sorry' part, no, he felt that emotion a lot, usually for himself - but it was never directed at Jefferson. His arch nemesis.

Well okay, they weren't really 'arch nemeses'. They liked to joke that they were, though it would often boil down to friendly banter, teasing and occasional taunts that sometimes went to far, however nothing quite drastic. It was for the laughs (except while debating, seeing as they had plenty of opinions on certain topics that differed a lot. If somebody that didn't know them or their relationship, surely they would be led to think that way.)

Alexander slowly rose from Jefferson's chair and was even slower while making his way towards the taller man, ever step taken with caution as he walked. Jefferson's tired eyes were locked on him as he moved across the room, though Alexander had the feeling that Jefferson was lost. His stare, usually holding some spark, some flame, was now but dying embers. Dull. Absent. Gently Alex laid his palm on Jefferson's shoulder. "Hey," he said, eyes softening, mouth curving in a pitiful smile, weakly, "wanna talk?"

It took the other a few seconds to fathom was was going on. He nodded once and then let himself be led to his desk by Alexander, the immigrant's hand now on the small of his back, gently pushing him forward, careful not to make him trip over himself. Alexander felt as if Jefferson was prone to that at the moment. He let Jefferson sit down on the chair, and Alex crouched directly in front of him, one hand on Jefferson's tight and the other holding one of the chair's handles. Thomas was still slouched and stared blankly at his lap.

"Thomas…"

And apparently that was all it took to make Thomas start crying. It was like an explosion of a cobalt bomb. It was no 'man crying'. Jefferson was full on sobbing, rubbing his eyes, obviously trying to stop himself, with little to no success. Alexander found himself at loss; he never had to comfort a crying person, unless the person was himself (but that also sometimes wouldn't go well). So he took Thomas' hand in his smaller one and intertwined their fingers. He winced when Thomas' grip on it became harder, but his feelings weren’t the priority here.

"Okay, it's gonna be okay," he repeated like a mantra, not knowing the reason behind the other man's obvious despair but hoping to give Thomas some sense of comfort. After something like 5-7 minutes, the tears stopped. By that time, Thomas' head was resting on Alexander's shoulder. His jacket was probably ruined but to hell with it. Occasionally, a dry sob would wrack Jefferson's body, making Alex wonder what must have been so awful that made Thomas this pathetic but also - how hasn't anyone heard them before? Was everyone just on brakes or had their doors shut tightly? Or did they not want to deal with this? Probably the latter. It stirred up some kind of anger deep in Alexander, but admittedly, he had no time to act on it.

"Thomas, can you talk to me?", he tried, eyes bright and hopeful, looking directly at Thomas' hooded ones.

Thomas looked as if considering to refuse the offer, however he had no strength left to form a whole sentence that would give Alex the reason why exactly was that. So he said, barely audible, his heart shattering a little with every word, "Martha… she - she said she wanted a divorce. She said she wanted…divorce me. She doesn't… she doesn't wanna be with m-me. I don’t know what did I do wrong -", and the last word he barely managed, voice becoming more brittle every second.

"Hush now," Alexander said quickly, not wanting to send Jefferson over the edge again. He was already standing on the metaphorical cliff. It would only take him another step, another slip to fall into the endless abyss of emotions. This was not a time nor place for it. Alex tapped Thomas' tight lightly. "It will be okay." Except it won't, and he knows it. He had experienced the pain of divorce on his own skin already. It burned. Granted, it was 5 years ago already, but he never really stopped caring about it. But he knew it was for the better - Eliza deserved better than him. Maybe that was why she remarried. Even though Alexander himself has had a number of relationships in the 5 years time, 2 of them being actually serious, he could never make himself marry another woman. Or another man, for that matter. It felt perverse, filthy, and beyond all wrong. He doesn't really speak to Eliza anymore, though he has heard from some of their friends that she is happy and moved on in life, even that she has a kid or two. They never had any, which might be a good thing. He remembers Eliza always wanted one, and he would always manage to convince her otherwise. Maybe it was because he could predict the ending of their two year old marriage, maybe it was just a too much of a commitment at the moment - they were only 23 when they wed. Maybe both. Regardless, Alexander did not want to dig up bad times from the past right this moment, for there was a weeping man before him.

"Thomas", he said, "hey," he tried to get the other's attention. Which he did after a few moments, "how about we leave this place, huh?"

The idea seemed apparently appealing enough for Thomas and he nodded eagerly, though said nothing. Alexander got to his feet and pulled Jefferson up with him, the darker man still intent on holding the firm grip on Alex's hand. Hamilton didn't mind, really. Offering some kind of physical support was the least he could do. Be an anchor to Thomas, to make him feel as if there was something worth holding in his life, as of right now. The thoughts in his head surely weren't kind, and if this was what he needed, Alex was more than happy to provide.

Alexander dragged them both out of Jefferson's office, obviously drawing attention to the two of them and earning some strange looks. George said nothing when he saw them, obviously being more informed of the situation than Hamilton was in the first place.

He contemplated taking them to the bar, but fairly quickly reasoned with himself that it wouldn't be smart to get Jefferson drunk now. Sure, it would only be "one drink" at the beginning, but it would be quite a hard task to separate him from the bottle later. So that was a no. Running out of good ideas, Alexander decided that it might be the smartest thing to just get Jefferson to his house and take care of him there. Seems reasonable, sure. Because who doesn't bring their political rival to their home?

The ride to uptown where Hamilton lived was short enough. The place was not noisy, and even though Hamilton did not mind loud surroundings, he was more productive when it was quiet and peaceful. Having Hercules Mulligan as a roommate in college proved it - even though they lived together only for a year before Hercules dropped out and Alexander was assigned a new person to share the dorm with - Aaron Burr. The difference between two men was huge, even though he still prefers Herc over Burr.

"Come on, now," he said quietly to Thomas while opening his car door. It took Thomas a moment longer again, to register where he was, but he shuffled out of the car right after Alexander. And as if on cue, a cold, large hand slipped into his own. Alex smiled in spite himself. It was nice, though, knowing that Jefferson trusted him enough to do that.  
As they walked in, Alex took Jefferson's coat off him, and his own jacket too, placing them onto the coat hanger. "You can go and make yourself comfortable in the sitting room. Do you want me to fix you something for eat or drink?"

For a moment Thomas looked as if deep in thought, before clearing his throat and managing, "Uh, tea." Alexander nodded, threw a quick 'I'm on my way' in Jefferson's direction before slipping into the kitchen.

When he returned, he found Thomas in the very same position as he was in the office. Alexander handed him the cup of tea, knowing by heart how Jefferson likes it - after all, he's been working with the man for years now. Thoms gave him a nod that Alex took as a 'thanks' and he sat next to him, although there was a good meter and a half distance between them. "Wanna watch TV?"

"Not really."

"Wanna talk?"

"Not really."

"What can I do for you, then?"

"Fuck me."

Has Alexander's mind been playing with him or did he actually hear what Thomas said? Just to be sure, he tried, stammering a little, "Uh, what?"

"Have I not been clear?" Thomas' stone-cold attitude was back, and although Alex hasn't exactly missed it, it sure as hell was a better alternative to sad Jefferson.

"You have. But I must ask," Alexander moistened his lips shortly, looking down and then back up again, leaning slightly towards Jefferson, "are you sure that it's what you want to do - right now?"

"Hamilton, I am hella sure I want something to get my mind off of… _things_. And this right now seems like the best option, unless you'd be so kind as to give me a bottle of _something_ and let me drink myself stupid until I forget." He scowled at the smaller man, sending shivers down Alexander's spine.

Alex nodded to himself and then confirmed with Thomas, "Yeah, I'll fuck you, okay."

"Thanks." He said rather apathetically and rose to his wobbly feet but managing to support himself with the sofa's armrest. Alexander stood up as well, jerking his head to signalise Thomas to follow him, on his way to the bedroom. He could hear Jefferson stumbling behind him, tripping on various things, like small bumps on the floor or stairs. Alex did try and offer Jefferson a hand, but Thomas seemed well past that stage. His gaze was stone cold, fixated on Alexander. It made Hamilton feel uneasy but also a certain level of excitement.

His bedroom was small, although he did possess a double-bed. As soon as one of them closed the door, Jefferson was on him, hands everywhere, from squeezing his ass to teasing the hem of his shirt, hands skimming over any bare inch of skin he could reach. He clashed their lips and did not wait for Alexander to part his own - good God, he just went for it. It was also probably the most thrilling hookup he has ever had. Which was on one hand understandable, since _hello_ , it was Thomas fucking Jefferson, but on the other it was just a tad bit sad. Needless to say, he wasn't that desirable back in high school or college, mainly because of his physical appearance - most girls were taller than him when he was still in his junior year, reaching the pathetic 5'5 (thank God he is 5'7 now). And there was also the fact that, while he was not strictly ugly, he was often described as "cute". You could imagine what a punch in the gut that was. And if you really wanna get nitpicky, you could also blame it into him not ever going out and having but 4 friends through entirety of his education and avoiding people as much as possible… Alexander often didn't take that into account.

Thomas moved his mouth now to Alexander's neck, leaving a trail of blooming hickies, switching between lickng, kissing and nipping. He let out a needy gasp which only encouraged Thomas. The taller man pushed him down on the bed, for a moment lingering above him on all fours.

"Lube? Condoms?"

"Left cabinet, bottom drawer." Alex said, quickly getting impatient. When Thomas moved off him, he used the chance to get up and rid himself of his shirt. He stole an occasional glance towards Thomas, watching carefully how the other man's shirt rode up and revealed his back muscles. And if Alex thought that was impressive, he swore he almost fainted right then and there when his shirt was finally off. Jefferson was fucking ripped. "See something you like?" He taunted but Alex was too deep in to pretend he wasn't just having a total fanboy moment. He shrugged. Jefferson then moved back to the bed.

Suddenly everything was calm again. Nobody was rushing anymore, just peaceful anticipation. Alexander finally threw his pants off, quite a relief not to have anything (well, except boxers) straining his already hard cock. Jefferson was naked by the time Alex was done, and beginning to turn around to stand on his hands and knees. Hamilton was not if little surprised Jefferson decided to go with it that way. He never pegged Thomas to be one of doggy style. But whatever.

He poured a generous amount of lube on his open palm and waited a bit for it to warm up. After hearing a nervous grumble from Jefferson, Alex decided that it'd best if he didn't stall anymore. He gently pressed a finger to Thomas' rim, circling s little and eliciting a small moan from his partner. He pushed it in and slightly pumped it in and out. His ass was beginning to ache from the heels of his feet pressing into the flesh as he sat back, but he completely disregarded it the moment Thomas breathed, "More -". He complied, another digit joining in to the first. Thomas began rocking back, slowly fucking himself on them. "Come on, Hamilton." Alex nodded to himself and rose up to his knees trying to position himself right. He blushed with embarassment when he had to ask, "Thomas, could you - erm - lower yourself a bit? I can't reach -"

"Are you kidding me?"

"Not a single bit."

And Thomas laughed. Thomas actually laughed, because it was ridiculous. Although he did spread his legs slightly more to abide Hamilton's request. Well, sue him, Alexander thought, it was not his fault that he was short. Moving on - he pressed the head slowly in, making sure Thomas felt comfortable. When practically nothing except a huff came from him, Alex inched in more. Fairly soon he was buried all the way in. He waited a little, having Thomas adjust (even though his length was average, he'd say he's much more _sufficient_ in the girth department). "C'mon", said Jefferson and Alex moved out and thrust back in at a reasonable enough pace. Thomas murmured "right there!" or something along those lines, making Alexander aware that he hit that right spot. Under the same angle, he went again and a raw moan tore from Jefferson's throat. Alexander hasn't topped since college, but from the looks of it, he still has it. He then reached under and wrapped his hand around Jefferson's cock, gradually pumping it, pressing his thumb against the head and smearing precome. By this point, Thomas was a mess. Alexander's hand while resting on the other's hip, now grabbed it firmly, probably going to leave finger markings later. Well it was only fair, since Thomas did do the same to him. Few moments later, aforementioned hand found its way to Jefferson's hair, tangled in between strands and occasionally lightly pulling.

He felt Jefferson spill in his hand and he knew he wasn't far from it as well. He rode out his own and Thomas' orgasms, and then they have wordlessly both slumped on the bed. Alexander did dispose of the condom and laid next to Jefferson, although he did not press against his back or had Thomas do it to him. Maybe Jefferson just wasn't one to spoon. It didn't exactly bother Alexander, but it was peculiar and made him slightly confused.

Maybe he was just on his orgasm high, because then it hit Alex. Shit. Martha. Divorce. Yeah. It made sense why Jefferson didn't wanna be touched, maybe it was for the better. Because to Thomas this meant jack squat. Just a hookup to get his mind off his unpleasant situation. And Alex was fine with it.

Right?

Right.

…right?

**Author's Note:**

> Do I continue this is the forms of small drabbles/an actual book or do I just leave it as it is so I don't mess it up?
> 
> I'd say the latter but your choice my dudes


End file.
